


the cruel

by theoreticlove



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fourth Age fic, Gen, sometimes celegorm is a decent person!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticlove/pseuds/theoreticlove
Summary: celegorm tries to make amends regarding the whole dior situation





	the cruel

“I’ve come to apologise. And… to offer my service to you, if you wish for it.” 

Dior snorted. 

“Your service? What good will I get from your service? Your service won’t bring my sons back. My sons did nothing wrong and your servants killed them anyway, on your orders. I don’t accept your apology. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Tyelkormo’s eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently.

“Your sons… no, they were children. I did not- I did not kill children. That’s not true, I never would have done such a thing, on Eru.”

He hadn’t given that order. Doriath may have remained a blur in his memory, but he was sure he never would have given such an order. He hadn’t given that order.

Had he?

“No? Then why would they have done such a thing?”

“I… I don’t know.”

There was no explanation other than to admit to himself that he had, in fact, given the order. That he had condoned the slaughter of children. That he had been so far gone he didn’t care who paid the price for his sins.

He was a monster. 

Celegorm the Cruel, they called him, and they were right.

“How can I make it right?” He choked out, his voice breaking. 

“Unless you can bring my sons home? Nothing. As I said, I don’t accept your apology or your offer of service. I don’t want to see you again. Now, leave or be made to leave.” 

Tyelkormo’s hands shook as he rose and bowed before the former king of Doriath. 

“If there is anything I can-”

“Leave, Celegorm.”

He left.

***

Worry spiked through Maedhros when Tyelkormo came home and promptly burst into tears in his arms. 

“What happened?” He asked, running soothing circles on his younger brother’s back as said brother sobbed into his shoulder. 

“I- I- Elured and Elurin,” Tyelkormo replied, sobbing harder. 

“Oh,” said Maedhros, and gently brought Tyelkormo over to the couch. 

He had hoped to spare him that pain for a little while longer. Eru knew that it had been one of the worst days of Maedhros’ own life. He had searched for Elured and Elurin for hours, praying to anyone who would listen that they were okay and having never felt so hopeless as when he realised they were lost, all while mourning his three baby brothers, not yet buried. 

And Eru also knew that Tyelkormo, cruel as he was called, still would be crushed by the murder of children in his name. He had been far gone, by Doriath, fell and fey like their father before them, laughing as he slaughtered his enemies. But he would never have stooped so low as to murder children. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyelko,” he murmured. 

Tyelkormo sniffled, before he laughed bitterly.

“Did I not give the order for them to be chased down and killed? Did they not call me Celegorm the Cruel, for I was fell and fey and knew no mercy? Did I not cause the eternal separating of a father from his sons?”

“You did not.” Maedhros replied, staring firmly into his brother’s eyes. “You gave no such order. Elured and Elurin were chased from Doriath as revenge, taken by your servants, for your death.”

Tyelkormo sucked in a breath.

“What?” He asked. 

“The deaths of Elured and Elurin were great tragedies, atrocities committed by your servants. But they were not your fault.”

Something flickered behind Tyelkormo’s grey eyes. A fire, one which so resembled the fire behind their father’s eyes that Maedhros was momentarily taken aback. 

“Do you know which servants?” He asked. 

Ah, thought Maedhros.

“Yes.”

***

Dior watched as Celegorm hauled two elves, both seemingly disgruntled and confused, into the main hall of him home. When the two met his eyes, fear lit their own, as they seemed to realise something.

Dior wasn’t sure what the something was, but judging by the way that Celegorm held them by the backs of their necks, he was certain it wasn’t something good.

“I thought I told you, Celegorm the Cruel, that I wished to never see you again.”

Celegorm nodded his assent, and roughly, he shoved the two elves to the ground. 

“I gave no order condoning the slaughter of children,” said Celegorm, tall and proud, fire bright in his eyes. “I know you wish never to see me again, however I felt it must be made known. I have, though, found the two who did chase your sons from their home. Tell me what you wish me to do with them and I shall, and I shall never disturb you again.”

Dior was stunned silent. He looked down at the elves and any sympathy he may have had for them after Celegorm’s rough treatment of them faded entirely.

They were the reason he would never see his sons again. They had torn apart his family in the name of Celegorm the Cruel who had not asked for it. 

“Leave them with me,” he said, voice like ice in its sharpness. 

Celegorm bowed.

“Very well,” he said, and turned to leave, the heel of his boots clicking on the marble floor. 

Dior hesitated, before calling out to him just before he reached the door.

“Celegorm!”

The clicking on marble stopped as Celegorm turned, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Thank you,” Dior said.

Celegorm nodded once and left.

Dior turned to the elves still on the floor in front of him.

“So,” he began, “you are the ones responsible for the deaths of my sons.”

**Author's Note:**

> just like. go check out my other fic called 'the hunt'. its decent i swear.


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